a warm place

scenery

“The secret of joy is the mastery of pain.” 

― Anaïs Nin

of hearts & darts - redux

in this slant of light I see our hearts entwined

yearning- Brazil day 29

touch of bare skin on skin
her scent, her smell
her taste
the wisps of her hair against my face
on the pillow
my cock nestled into her ass
in the morning
my cock hard inside her
her mouth
her hands
her lips

12 steps - 3. decision

I decided that one finger was not enough. Not enough to elicit the kind of reaction I was looking for. Her body writhed. She moaned. Her breasts rose and fell. Yet, as I probed within the liquid silkiness of her inside. As the tip of my finger rubbed against the little irregular bump each time I crooked it, it was not enough.

So I decided to insert a second. And a third. And finally a fourth. Her reaction was almost instantaneous. She bucked vigorously, driving my fist deeper into her. Molten liquid spilt from within her to drip from my wrist. Her moans turned from a sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth into a wail of desire and pain. She pushed against my hand. I pushed back. Her cunt made soft suckling sounds like a baby at a mother's breast. I decided to allow her to cum.

"Would you like to cum My Precious"

"Yes!", was her anguished response.

"Then cum for me My Precious. Cum for me like the slut you are"

And she did. All over my hand like the biblical flood.

Afterwards as the waves subsided and the spasms ebbed, I held her and smirked within her hair.

It was a good decision.

12 steps - 2. believe

...that a power greater than ourselves can restore us to sanity

12 steps - admission

I was wrong.

There was no excuse.

In a flash of a hundred splintered pieces

Was realization

that this could not be thrown away

Or dashed against a white wall.

salacious sunday - speaking in tongues

For if I pray in a tongue, my spirit prays, but my mind is unfruitful. 

So what shall I do?

I will pray with my spirit, but I will also pray with my mind;

I will sing with my spirit, but I will also sing with my mind.

1 Corinthians, 14:15

As in all the congregations of the saints, women should remain silent in the churches. They are not allowed to speak, but must be in submission, as the Law says

1 Corinthians, 33:34

clean canvas

McDonald's claims to have a fresh cracked egg in every Egg McMuffin. What did they use before?

It is -18C. Wind chill factors are flirting with -30C. The cold has wrapped itself around the house and reached it's icy tendrils into the bed. I have managed to warm a small section under the covers with precious body heat. It's comfortable as long as I don't move my legs.

Tonight will be different. Tonight she will warm my bed for me. I will smile at her squeals as I do my rounds around the house. There will be hair to nestle into. Skin of her neck to breathe into. Soft breasts to cup. Nipples will prod gently into my palms. She will snuggle tight against my chest. I will press my cock against her ass and dribble on her. Marking my territory.

After two weeks, her skin will be white, pure, unmarred. Like a fresh canvas for an artist, she will lay her body before me for my perplexing creativity. Understood by so very few, accepted by less yet, I will perform and she will indulge.

For I am hers and she is mine. Within the darkness of my mind, she will hold the candle and we will dance, the dance macabre of perversions and the deviant. Flickering shadows bound forever, together.

moss

Her pulse danced steadily against the edges of my tongue. A melody of molten heat and liquid pleasure. She stretched herself out before me, like an unfolding canvas for my artistry. Creativity spilled forth from my lips, dribbled and slurped with each frenzied flick. Her skin as delicate as moss. Soft, luxurious, damp.

simple things

It starts with the way she lays her head on my belly with her hair splayed out around her like a veil. I like the way she takes my flaccid cock into her mouth and that simple way she has of swirling her tongue around it's sensitive tip. The way my cock grows erect and hard under her manipulations. I like to place my hand upon her head in order to pin her down while I buck my hips slowly. This causes my cock to glide in and out of her warm mouth, lubricated by her spittle. Sometimes I don't move. And neither does she. My cock rests inside her, entombed within her mouth, her lips clamped around the shaft. I know she has her eyes closed.

I like to pat her cheek so that she slips my cock into the crevice between her teeth and the inside of her cheek. I like to stroke the bulge there, sometimes slap it. Her moans run like rivulets of a current down my hard member to tickle my balls and up my spine. I like how she will sometimes trace the tracks of her spit with her finger, exploring the nether darkened region that's just beyond my testicles. I like how she slips me from my mouth to follow her finger with her tongue, softly caressing my testicles with a velvet touch.

I like how she strokes me with the tip of my cock just touching the tip of her tongue. She likes when she tastes my pre-cum, flicking her tongue to catch the dew-like drops. Moaning softly for more as her strokes speed up. And when my cum explodes from me in a spray of orgasmic completion, I like how she slurps up every drop, licking every sticky residue as it sloshes around her mouth. I like how she continues to suckle me until my cock returns to it's flaccid state to slip out of her mouth. I like to stroke her hair as she places her hot cheek on my heaving belly and sighs softly. I know she is licking her lips, savouring my taste. I like how she thanks me and says I love you, dreamily.

Such simple things.

to whit spit?

Some like to play with Barbies. Others like to play dress-up. Yet others like to watch TV while others prefer lollipops. One a hot sultry afternoon with the television playing an accompanying track and the fan stirring the hot air around in a sweltering bedroom, she prefers to suck my cock. Lick it, stroke it, make love to it.

Holding the camera steady was the least I could do.

salacious sunday - Calisto

"Sheets of empty canvas, untouched sheets of clay
Were laid spread out before me as her body once did.
All five horizons revolved around her soul
As the earth to the sun
Now the air I tasted and breathed has taken a turn"

~Pearl Jam (Black)

pinch

salacious sunday

And Satan stood up...and provoked David... And David said unto God, I have sinned greatly, because I have done this thing...

I Chronicles 21: 1,8

passing fancy regular haunt permanent lair

"Interesting site, we will see if it is a passing fancy of myself or a regular haunt. Hats off, indeedly, very well done, thank you for killing some my time...Might even earn a hot spot, damn nice.....again..."
(June 12, 2006)

Two years of

exploring

discovering

learning

laughter

tears

pain

sorrow

happiness

joy

endearment

relocation

anxiety

tension

excitement

yearning

touch

kisses

gropes

warmth

sweat

taste

questions

answers

&

LOVE

Happy Anniversary baby. Here's to a lifetime of shared memories and a warm bed.

copperhead bells

Tears stream down her cheeks barely visible in the muted light of a multi-coloured scarf thrown over the bedside lamp. Pinned down by my weight and tethered to the metal head board by an old black tie, her body lurches beneath me as she sobs into her arm. I place the small whip down and run my hands across her breasts. Her nipples are pointed and stiff but she twitches with each pass of my hand. A flush of darker colour crawls across the sides of her breasts like virus in a Petri dish, marring her perfect milky white flesh. The small bell on her ankle tinkles merrily in the dark room, an incongruous contrast to the desecration taking place.

Leaning forward to undo the knots at her wrists, my cock brushes against her half-open mouth, caressing her lips like a kiss. Her glazed eyes stare intently at the moist tip but she dare not move her head-either away or towards it. I know she wants nothing more than to lift her head and slip me into her mouth, to taste me, to swirl her tongue across the head, to tighten her lips along the length of my shaft. But she has no permission...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She's colouring her hair. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror the next day, she methodically applies the concoction to her long hair. There is a list of Golden Rules that she must abide. Rule #1: she shall not cut her hair more than 2" at a time. The mixture oozes out of the bottle a deep shade of purple smearing across scalp and forehead. It is not the colour she desires and we both laugh as I use a damp towel to wipe away the overspills. Her eyes flick down to her upraised arms and I follow her gaze.

The bruises under her arms and across her breasts almost mirror the colour of the dye being squeezed into her hair. I smirk as I slip my hands from behind cupping her breasts.

"You are Mine"

salacious sunday

O ye sons of men,
how long will ye turn my glory into shame?
How long will ye love vanity,
and seek after leasing?
~Psalms IV, 2

adore